


Ursa Rising

by naomichomsky



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, F/M, Friendship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-04-14 22:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14145675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naomichomsky/pseuds/naomichomsky
Summary: After nearly a century on the Path and facing every manner of beast and creature known to man, Witcher Siles MacCrain thought she had experienced everything life had to offer. But when confronted with a world-ending cataclysm and thrust unwillingly into the center of it all, she finds she must adapt and learn to survive in a new and unfamiliar land, assuming the role she never thought herself capable of - Leader.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Witcher/Dragon Age Crossover that finally answers the question no one is asking: What would happen if a Witcher was the Herald of Andraste? 
> 
> My first fan fic, and definitely my first time trying to write a Witcher character. An experiment of sorts, because I thought it would be interesting to see the consequences of a Witcher existing in the world of Thedas. Constructive feedback welcome!

      There was darkness, then a flash of pain in her palm. A dull ache spread from her hand, permeating every muscle in her body and seeping into her bones. Siles hung her head limply, coming to while kneeling on a cold, hard floor. She groaned and tried to clutch at the throbbing hand but discovered that her wrists were bound. She blinked open her eyes, allowing them to adjust to the dim lighting of her surroundings.

 

     She found herself in a barred cell, hands locked in wooden stocks. She noticed two guards standing at the door, but thankfully didn't see anyone else in the room. She could handle two guards. Siles closed her eyes, attempting to tune her hearing to the surrounding cells (a difficult task considering the pain thrumming through her body), but was finally able to listen out beyond her cell and into the adjacent rooms. She heard two voices - human and female from the tone of the pitch - rapidly approaching the dungeon she was in. She moved to stand in order to face her captors on her feet at least, but her palm burst with green energy, rendering her to the floor in shock and agony. At that exact moment, the cell door swung open and the women stepped inside.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now," a voice snarled from above her. Siles tried to look at the woman, but could barely even open her eyes. "The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead." The woman snatched Siles’ jaw in her hand, forcing her to meet her gaze. The two locked eyes for just a moment and the woman gasped, releasing her jaw and recoiling in horror. "Y-your eyes! What are you? A demon?!" The woman made to grab the hilt of her sword as her companion reached for the bow on her back.

  
     No chance for talking then. Realizing that the pain in her palm had diminished, she decided to attempt her escape. Siles tested the give of the stocks, then mustered almost all her remaining strength and ripped them in half, freeing her hands. She went to grab for her swords, a familiar habit, but was unsurprised to find them missing from their usual position on her back. The two women were advancing on her, having recovered from the shock of witnessing the display of brute force. Siles thrust her palm out towards them, fingers moving quickly as she made a Sign. A gust of air rushed forth, knocking her captors violently back against the cell walls.  
   

     The two guards had taken notice of the ruckus and rushed into the cell, swords drawn. One of them swung at her, crying out (for the divine, she thought she heard?), but she crouched and ducked out of the way, sweeping her leg out below him and dropping him onto his back. His sword clattered to the ground and she quickly grabbed for it, able to wield it in time to block an attack from above by the second guard. She jumped to her feet as he lunged forward, deftly spinning out of the way. The momentum from his attack carried him forward, and he stumbled, tripping over the outstretched feet of his felled comrade.

    This was the opening she needed. Siles made a break for the opening of the cell, ignoring the furious shouts behind her. She sprinted down to the set of stairs at the end of the room, bounding up them two at a time. At the landing she kicked in the door, bursting into the room above. She found herself standing in the vestibule of a temple, candles flickering in the wind caused by her commotion. Small clusters of patrons clad in red and white and the strangest looking hats turned to see the source of their disruption. _Well, that explains the demon and divine talk_ , she thought briefly. The portal she had fled through probably opened into some remote village full of cultists, who in turn probably decided her appearance was an ill omen or that maybe she was a harbinger of some manner of doom. _Not the first time this has happened_ , she recalled sardonically.  
The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps snapped her out of her thoughts. She legged it towards the giant wooden doors at the front of the temple, ignoring the gasps and shouts from the cultists. She threw the entirety of her weight against the solid oak doors and burst through into the cool air outside, only to be faced with...the end of the damned world, apparently.

~~~~~

 

     Cassandra raced through the Chantry doors with Leliana in tow and nearly collided with the prisoner. She was standing still, sword held loosely in her hand, gaping up at the churning, angry tear in the sky. At their approach she whirled around, those terrifying cat-like eyes narrowing into slits. Cassandra thought she caught a look of fear – or perhaps it was shock - pass over the prisoner's features before they settled back into a mask of impassivity.

  
"What is this?" The prisoner demanded, gesturing towards the sky behind her. "When did this happen?"

  
      Fury washed over the seeker. How dare this woman - if she was even human at all - demand answers of her? And to feign ignorance of the Breach...either she was lying, or her plan had backfired terribly. She leveled her sword at the prisoner's throat, sneering in disgust.

"We call it the Breach. The sky was torn after the explosion at the Conclave, but you should have a perfect recollection of the events you set into motion."

To her credit, the prisoner didn't flinch at the sword at her neck. "Whatever it is you think I did, I’m innocent,” she pleaded desperately. “I could not have caused that.” She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “You say this was preceded by an explosion? Can you describe -"

     Whatever she had been about to say was abruptly cut short. The Breach behind her expanded and pulsed violently in the sky, and the mark on the woman's hand seemed to respond in kind. The mark crackled furiously, green energy arcing from her palm in angry tendrils. The woman cried out, dropping to one knee. Her stolen sword clattered to the ground, forgotten, as she clutched her palm.

  
      If Cassandra thought the prisoner looked frightening before, she looked positively monstrous now. The scars marring her face deepened in color, as if they had been reopened by the force of the mark itself. Green veins emanated from her palm and crawled up her arm, quickly covering every visible bit of skin in ghastly spidery fibrils. She seemed to glow now, her skin cracking as the energy from the mark made its claim on her. Her eyes were blown wide, staring at some unknown spot just beyond Cassandra as tears trickled out from their corners. It looked as if simply breathing was causing her tremendous agony, every movement a painful exertion. Leliana moved forward, subtly motioning for her scouts and the nearby soldiers to circle in around the prisoner. She produced a pair of iron manacles from her satchel and clasped them soundly around the woman's wrists, barely batting an eye. How she could be calm in the face of such a horrifying display was slightly worrisome to the warrior, but she was also glad that the spymaster could keep her head and carry on with their mission.

"We should put her out of her misery," Cassandra snarled, half-afraid, glaring down at the prisoner as she writhed in agony. Leliana tutted.

"We need her, Cassandra," She chided. "Take her to the Breach. End this. Then we can...deal with her."

     The Breach above them settled, and with it the prisoner's episode seemed to be ending. The glow faded, and her skin returned to its normal hue, her eyes refocusing on the woman above her. Cassandra saw the moment she realized she had been shackled again and made to try to break them, but a dozen swords were drawn on her in an instant. "Don't. Even. Try," The seeker warned dangerously. The prisoner looked at her for a long moment, then let her gaze settle on the soldiers surrounding her. She sighed, and slowly clambered onto her feet.

"Alright," She said wearily, "take me to this Breach."

~~~~~

 

     This was no cult. Or if it was, it was the best outfitted one Siles had ever seen. No, this was some type of army encampment, most likely stationed here after the sky had, for lack of a better term, blown up. Where the hell was she? This Breach was bad news. If it wasn't another Conjuction, it was probably something just as devastating and world-altering. The fact that these women thought she had anything to do with this, let alone caused it, had her almost on the verge of panic. Sure, she had been falsely accused for thousands of misdoings across the span of her life - from carrying disease, to stealing children or, on one memorable occasion, causing a farm's prize heifer to give birth to Slyzards (that had anticlimactically been the doing of a slighted witch, in the end) - but she had never been accused of world-ending destruction before. She desperately wanted to do the only sensible thing in her opinion, which was to turn tail and run from this madness. But the warrior woman seemed hell-bent on taking her directly to it, and bound as she was, she could hardly fight it.

  
"You can't possibly think I've caused this," Siles tried desperately once again to reason with the woman. The warrior barely even turned to answer her.

  
"And why shouldn't I? You are the only survivor, crawling out from the wreckage of the explosion. And you have that mark!" The woman (had she heard her called Cassandra?) snapped. "It responds to the Breach!"

     Siles mulled this over. This was the worst case of wrong place, wrong time she had ever been a part of. The portal had obviously dumped her at this Temple just as it had exploded. Maybe that explained the mark on her hand. Whatever had caused the explosion affected her too, its magic burrowing into her in the form of this blasted mark. But that was even worse for her, in the end. She would have to try to remove the mark, and the process may end up killing her.

"I know we Witchers aren't loved by most, but even our kind wouldn't stoop to this kind of destruction and chaos." She paused for a moment. "Or at least I wouldn't, and no one I associate with would. I'm not even sure we could cause this kind of damage."

The woman in front of her stopped. "So, you admit." She whirled around fully now, eyes hard and accusing. "You're an apostate."

Siles blinked. "A what?"

The woman made a disgusted noise. ''Do not play dumb. It is getting tiresome. You’re an apostate. What circle are you from? Your armor was more suited for a warrior, but Leliana thought it could possibly be a well enforced robe."

  
Nothing the warrior was saying made sense. "I'm a Witcher,'' She said slowly. "Surely you knew that?" How remote of a village was this that they hadn't even come across Witchers before? "From the Bear school. See?" She held up the medallion that hung from her neck. "I’m not sure what you mean by Circles. And by the way, I could really use that armor if you want me to go up against that." She motioned towards the Breach.

  
Cassandra glared, her eyes narrowing. "I don't know what you are trying to play at, but I don't know of any Circles that worship bears. You're clearly not Dalish...and I'm still not convinced you're entirely human." She shook her head. "Who were you at the Conclave with?"

  
Siles’ mind raced. She had to think quickly. Cassandra was already wary of her, and the direction this conversation was headed in was likely to end her up back in the cell in the dungeons. The two women were not going to come to any kind of common ground or agreement by circuitously questioning and accusing each other, and then she would never be able to win her freedom back. She had to divert her attention from this particular line of interrogation. 

"Cassandra." The warrior woman was startled to hear herself addressed so frankly. "I agreed to go with you to this Breach. I will help you try to defeat it, even though I don't know how much help I'll be. But you must know that I did not cause this, nor do I have any desire to cause such...catastrophic chaos." The woman stared at her. "Oh. And I apologize for attempting to escape. I thought you were trying to sacrifice me."

  
Cassandra was silent for a beat. Then two beats. Finally, after a long moment, she sighed, resigned. "Alright, I suppose. I should remember that you came willingly...eventually." She gave Siles a meaningful look. "You wish to prove your innocence? Help us close the Breach. It is the only way."

In an uneasy truce, the two women trudged up the snow-capped mountains, coming ever closer to the green chaos swirling above them.

 

~~~

"Quickly! Before more come through!"

  
      Solas grabbed her hand and shoved it towards the smaller rift, hoping that the prisoner would be able to grasp control of the magic well enough to close it. The woman looked aghast for one moment, then seemed to realize what she needed to do, thankfully. She pulled the energy of the rift towards her, channeling it until she could grab at a tendril and yank the tear closed. He watched as she stumbled backwards, caught off guard by the force she could now wield. She glared up at him.

  
"What did you do?"

  
      She was even more fearsome and mystifying than he had anticipated. Solas had watched over her as she lay unconscious back in Haven, trying desperately to separate her from his stolen magic. He had even advised against the other alchemist from attending to her in favor of himself, in hopes of buying more time to gain his magic back. But as he healed her and worked tirelessly over her, he quickly came to the realization that the prisoner was no ordinary woman, and certainly no ordinary human. Her body reacted differently to magic, or perhaps a more accurate description would be that she resisted his magic. He could sense something was different about her, that her physiology had been augmented somehow, but didn’t know in what manner. Her muscles were denser, her heart rate naturally slowed, and when he had lifted her eyelids he had lost his breath. She was no demon, but he wasn't sure how human she was. She had flummoxed him, and in a different circumstance perhaps she would have even scared him.

  
"I did nothing," Solas emphasized so the dwarf and seeker could overhear, drawing closer to her. "The credit is all yours."

  
The woman regarded him, then let her gaze drift down to the mark. "Huh. So the magic is the same as the Breach's then?"

  
Solas schooled his expression, choosing his next words carefully. "I would think that whatever magic your mark is, it can interact with the tears in the Fade. So perhaps it is the same, or similar."

  
The prisoner stared at him for a long moment. “At least this is good for something, I suppose," She remarked finally.

  
Solas nodded, then turned to Cassandra. He needed to keep the prisoner alive for now, long enough to separate her from his magic, and to figure out who - or what - she was."Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

  
Cassandra looked furious, her eyes blazing. "But she is a mage! Can you not tell? She used magic against me and Leliana, knocked us back with a gust of wind!"

  
Solas kept his expression blank, although the news shocked him. Before he could respond, the prisoner interrupted.

  
"I'm no mage. I've already told you, I'm a Witcher. I could never do the kind of magic a sorceress does," She interjected.

  
"Then what did you do to me and Leliana? You would have me believe you can huff and puff and blow people over?" Cassandra snapped.

  
"It's a sign. A simple parlor trick compared to what the real mages do."

  
Solas made a mental note of this. This would be something he would have to explore with the prisoner later. To do magic but not claim to be a mage? An interesting dichotomy, if not a vexing one. "Regardless," he interceded. "Even if she was a mage, like I said before, I find it difficult to believe any mage being able to wield such power."

  
Cassandra considered his words. "Understood." She gritted out finally. "We must get to the forward camp quickly." The seeker stalked off towards the camp, leaving him with the prisoner and Varric.

  
"Well," the dwarf said from behind him. "Bianca's excited!"

  
He heard the woman hum in agreement and fall in line behind him, trailing after the seeker.

~~~~~

     Cullen didn't know how much longer he could hold out. His soldiers were fighting as best they could, but the onslaught of demons was relentless. They would fell one only to turn around and find two more emerging from the rift to replace it. Sweat beaded on his brow, trickled down the back of his neck and onto his back. His breathing was labored but he could not cease; he had to continue fighting - not for himself but for his men, the soldiers who had pledged themselves to the their cause when the stakes were far less but who had stayed and persevered. A demon shrieked into existence above him, stepping out from the rift and raising its sharpened claws to him. He was exhausted. His hand cramped where he gripped his sword, his arm fatigued from hoisting up his shield. He lost count of the hits he had taken, and if he miraculously managed to survive this encounter he was sure to be covered in angry bruises and gashes.

  
      The demon loosed an unholy howl, rising to its full height in front of him. With its claws protracted, it reared back to attack. He realized with dawning horror that he wouldn’t be able to lift his shield up in time to block the attack. He would be able to do nothing as this foul creature ripped him to shreds. He winced, bracing for the hit that would inevitably be his undoing. A second passed. And then another. No attack came. He opened his eyes cautiously.

  
      The demon was gone, reduced to a pile of ash at his feet. In front of him stood the prisoner, glow of the rift framing her form as she stood triumphantly above the felled beast. She was streaked in blood, her eyes wild (almost cat-like, he thought absently) and her hair blowing out behind her as she twirled her sword expertly in her hand. She then spun on the ball of her foot and thrust her left hand out at the mark, sapping energy from it until she could pull the thread closed, sealing the rift shut. She turned back to him, offering her hand. 

  
"Are you alright?" She asked, her voice low but smooth as velvet.

  
"I-I believe so," He responded, half in awe and half in fear. He cautiously took her hand and she hoisted him up, clapping him solidly once on the shoulder before sidling up to Cassandra. 

     He had been to see her once in Haven when she was unconscious. He had gone with Leliana and Cassandra, and it was a short visit. They had only went to see if any of them recognized her and to receive an update on her health. She had been sickeningly pale and still as the grave, to such a point he had been tempted to ask Solas if she still breathed. The memory was such a stark contrast to the woman in front of him now, who had apparently just saved his life. He blinked, pulling himself out of his reverie. Had she just sealed the rift? And were her eyes actually cat's eyes?

"Did you just close the rift?"

  
"I suppose," she responded, almost as if she was bored! "This mark is a nuisance, but at least it seems to do good right now." She glanced out over to the ruins of the Temple. "That the way to the Breach?"

  
"That is the way," Cullen responded lamely.

     He couldn't help staring at her. She exuded a sense of authority that he could not ignore, but he found himself intimidated by her presence. And the way she wielded her sword...Maker's breath, he needed to get a grip. He turned to Cassandra. "You are taking her to the Breach?" The seeker nodded. "The temple should be clear. Leliana will attempt to meet you there."

He allowed himself one last look at the mysterious prisoner. "Maker watch over you. For all our sake."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the amount of in-game dialogue in this chapter, but I needed it to help get things moving. I also decided to only use Siles' perspective in this chapter. I'm still figuring out exactly how I want to write this, so thanks for your patience!

Something wasn’t right.

Siles hadn’t been able to place the source of her unease as she and Cassandra trudged up the mountain, but she had felt a profound sense of wrongness in her gut. Surprisingly, the feeling of disquiet wasn’t a result of her status as prisoner or the swirling, green breach in the sky. Peril was not an unfamiliar feeling to the Witcher. It was more…the land itself, and the people she was surrounded by. It wasn’t the peculiar way their holy people dressed, or that they revered gods she had never heard of, or the unfamiliar names of their cities (she had never heard of Val Royeaux, but in fairness Siles had spent most of her life in the Northern Realms and Nilfgaardian Empire, and she couldn’t be familiar with every city on the Continent). It finally dawned on her as she was staring up at the giant demon that had materialized in front of their group, its body crackling with raw energy, angry lightning arcing from its back. Her medallion wasn’t humming. _Her medallion wasn’t humming_. Since the moment she woke up in this cursed place, her medallion had hung dormant around her neck, silent. It should have been nearly vibrating off her chest, responding to the vast amounts of magic in the air, to all the spells the mage Solas had been casting, and certainly to the rifts that tore violent holes in the sky. But the medallion lay eerily still now, even as the demon let loose a bone chilling cackle and produced a pair of lightning whips from thin air. The implications of her sudden revelation would have to wait then, at least until this monster was defeated and the Breach closed. She cast a rushed Quen sign upon herself, letting her magic create a protective barrier around her body, and raised her sword, charging the creature with a furious cry.

 

~~~~~

 

Siles came to, blinking her eyes open. She found herself in a cabin, furs adorning the wooden walls, a fire flickering gently in a sconce and a bookcase in the corner. She noticed with relief that her hand no longer ached where the mark was…and her hands weren’t shackled! She shot up, only to be startled by a slender elf standing in the entryway of the room. The girl’s eyes widened, and she gasped, dropping the crate she was holding.

“Where am I? Am I being held prisoner still?” Siles demanded, eyes scanning the room and listening for any more intruders lurking beyond the door.

“Wha- I mean, no, I uh, I don’t think so?” The elf stuttered out, wringing her hands anxiously.

“Where am I, then, and what happened?” She moved to stand, and the elf yelped, falling to her knees and bowing her head to the floor. Siles stared at the girl, caught off guard by the display. “Uhm…”

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing! I am but a humble servant,” the girl pleaded, risking a glance up at Siles as the Witcher moved slowly from the bed. “You are back in Haven, my Lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the Mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!”

“Three days? Have I been out for three days?” Siles felt the sense of dread return to her, absentmindedly clutching at her medallion.

“Yes, my Lady,” The girl said, moving to stand. “I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said, ‘At once’.”

The elf started moving slowly towards the door, wringing her hands again.

“Yes, I’m sure she does,” Siles muttered, mostly to herself. “Where is she then?”

“In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once,’ she said,” the elf repeated, then all but ran out the door, leaving Siles alone in the small cabin.

She waited for the door to click close, then quickly turned on the chests and barrels in the room, ripping open their lids in search of her any piece of her equipment or armor. After a few minutes of frantic hunting, nearly tearing apart the cabin in the process, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She supposed she wasn't surprised that her belongings hadn’t been returned to her. Perhaps she wasn’t a prisoner anymore, but she certainly wasn’t trusted yet either. She vowed to find her equipment before the day’s end, however, whether they were willing to give it to her or not. She had apparently barely survived her encounter with the massive demon at the Breach, and she wouldn’t be caught facing monsters like that again unarmored.

Next, she turned her attention towards the bookcase in the corner and began skimming the titles, hoping to gain a better sense of where on the Continent she was. Or if she was even on the Continent anymore. She suppressed a shudder at the thought. Siles pulled the books out and flipped quickly through the pages, tossing them back onto the shelf when they turned out to be one religious text after another. Who was this damned Andraste woman, and why was this place so obsessed with her? She took out another book, _The Disciples of Andraste_ (sure to be another dry read) and flicked hurriedly through the pages, hoping for at least a map of a country. She was about to throw the book back when her eyes caught mention of the town Haven.

She stopped, re-reading over the passage carefully. The town had once been home to a group of religious zealots who worshipped a high dragon as their reborn Prophet. At some point in the past, though, they had all been brutally wiped out by someone called the Hero of Ferelden. Siles eyed the window outside warily. She hadn’t seen any dragons or egg clutches, but the people who lived in Haven now had some cult-like tendencies. She would have to be very careful here. She dragged her eyes back to the book in her hands and finished reading the passage, setting the book back on the shelf when she was done. She had discovered two important bits of information: Haven was located high up in the Frostback Mountains, which were in the country of Ferelden; second, the year was after 9:30 Dragon.

Finally, she had a location. She was in Ferelden. Trouble was, she had never heard of Ferelden before, nor had she ever seen it on a map. This was different than not being familiar with the name of a city. Countries were much larger, and more frequently referred to. She had heard of far-away countries like Ofier and Zangvebar, with strange customs and even stranger fauna (a bard she had met once said that the Ofieris rode on magnificent white and black striped horses). She had even heard of Hann and Barsa, countries that lay so far to the south and so seldom talked of that people actually believed them to be mythical in nature. But she had never heard of Ferelden, and this troubled her. What troubled her just as much, though, was the part of the passage that marked a year as 9:30 Dragon. The year was 1250 when she leapt through the portal in the cave, and now it was post-9:30 Dragon. In Ferelden. Where they apparently kept time differently than the rest of the world.

Siles began pacing the room, attempting to formulate a plan. What she needed, she decided, was a bigger map. One that had surrounding countries, maybe an ocean or a sea. A map that could give her a bigger picture of where Ferelden was in relation to countries and landmarks she was familiar with. Once she had pinpointed her location, she could begin to devise a way back to Toussaint. Her contractor had almost certainly given her up for dead at this point, and she hadn’t killed the monster anyway, so there was no point in going back to see him. But her horse was still outside the cave entrance, and aside from that she had a room in the city where she had stored a large portion of her belongings and alchemical supplies. Even if the room had been cleaned out they would hold on to her belongings for a time until she could come retrieve them. Clearly, there were no maps in this room and she would have to venture out into the town to search.

She arranged her unruly auburn hair into a quick plait and looked down at her attire, wishing vehemently once again she had her armor with her. They had dressed her in a soft beige tunic, buttoned all the way up to her neck, with leather breeches. It was far too soft for her liking and offered her almost no protection – from the elements or otherwise. She very rarely went out without her full armor on and felt exposed and underdressed. She also decided not to dwell on the fact that someone had had to strip her under armor leathers off to put the get up on her, and instead slid on the boots on that were laid out for her next to the bed. As fully dressed and presentable as she could get at the moment, she strode to the door and exited the cabin and…stopped dead in her tracks.

Outside the cabin, lining both sides of the path ahead were the townspeople of Haven. They gave a start when the door opened, but then, upon seeing Siles in the doorway, crossed their arms over their chests and bowed their heads. Siles began to move very carefully forward, keeping her eyes trained ahead but watching the townspeople in her periphery. Once again, she couldn’t help but think how wrong everything was here. These people had reviled her not three days ago, calling out for her death and condemning her. But now, it seemed, they held her in reverence and awe. They watched her as she moved through town, whispering about her as if she was their hero or savior, bowing deferentially when she passed. Herald of Andraste, an alarmingly large number of people had called her in hushed tones. Siles bit back a swell of panic that threatened to engulf her and squared her shoulders, pushing onward towards the Chantry.

Panic was a foreign feeling for the Witcher. After decades of monster slaying, the work had formed into a familiar, unending routine. Find a contract, learn the nature of the beast, negotiate her fee, prepare the right bombs and oils, slay the monster, return to the contractor and receive her coin. There were no surprises anymore, not after all the years. The monsters behaved predictably, as did the people who hired her, no matter the country or city she was in. They were always wary but begrudging, as Siles was their only option to solve their monster problems. The monsters were usually either protecting their nests or hunting grounds that the humans had encroached on, or in the cases of cursed creatures acting out the terms of their curses. Wraiths haunted, and Griffins hunted, Ghouls scavenged, and Succubi seduced. Life on the Path had become habitual and regular, with little deviation. Haven, however, was anything but habitual or regular. Nothing had happened according to the normal routine since she arrived here. She had never come across the types of monsters that were crawling out of the rifts, nor had she ever been anyone’s captive for so long, and she certainly had never passed out for days on end before. Her hand was not supposed to glow, and people weren’t supposed to bow to her, and she did not belong in a beige tunic. So, she was panicking, and the feeling sat unwell with her. The sooner she could leave Haven, the better.

She finally reached the Chantry doors, ignoring the people in their strange robes clustered out front. This place made her uneasy, as the last time she was here she had been in shackles in the dungeons. Steeling herself, she threw open the door and stalked inside. At the far end of the room behind a closed door, she heard a heated argument. One of the voices was the Seeker, Cassandra, and the other was that insufferable man Roderick. She had been tempted to use her Axii Sign on him when she had met him on the mountain to get him to just be quiet, but Cassandra and Leliana had been very effective in shutting him down on their own. It sounded like they were arguing about duty and loyalty, or some nonsense like that, and the Seeker was reaching the end of her patience. Siles marched up to the door, gave a sharp knock, then without waiting for a response pushed open the door and strode into the room. Better to put out a false sense of confidence than to let them see her unease and fear, she wagered.

The man Roderick looked furious. “Arrest her at once!” he shrieked, gesturing at two guards in heavy plate that had appeared behind the Witcher in the doorway.

Cassandra sneered in disgust. “Disregard that and leave us,” she commanded, and the guards gave a curt nod and thumped their arms across their chest in salute, disappearing back into the Chantry.

Roderick looked positively incensed. “You cannot be serious,” He hissed. “Look at her! We don’t even know what she is, except that she escaped from the Temple with the mark on her hand. Her guilt is all but assured!”

The Seeker stepped close to the Chancellor, almost nose-to-nose with the man, her eyes dark and dangerous.

“You were not there,” she seethed. “The Divine called to her for help.”

Leliana moved closer to Cassandra, joining in. “Someone else was behind the explosion at the Conclave, someone Most Holy did not expect.” Her voice turned to acid, dripping poison. “Perhaps they died with the others – or perhaps they still live, _Chancellor_.”

Siles regarded the hooded redhead and decided quickly that she would not try to antagonize her again. Beneath the pretty façade lay something cunning and ruthless, and while the Witcher seemed to have been forgiven for her escape attempt and exonerated of her guilt, she didn’t want to press her luck.

“ _I_ am a suspect?!” Roderick asked, incredulous.

“You, and many others,” Leliana replied darkly.

“And the prisoner’s mark and its abilities, all just a grand coincidence then?”

Cassandra stepped in, interrupting. “Divine providence. She was sent to us by the Maker in our darkest hour.”

“I was what now?” Siles finally spoke out, moved to speak at the implications of the Seeker’s words. “I wasn’t sent here by anyone, divine or otherwise.”

Cassandra finally looked over at her, an unreadable expression on her face. “I was wrong about you, and perhaps I still am.” She looked fierce, resolute. “I will not, however, pretend that you weren’t exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

“Which is too convenient to be overlooked!” The Chancellor argued.

Rage passed over the Seeker’s features, and she whirled behind her, picking something up and slamming it on the table in front of them. Roderick yelped and jumped back in surprise at the display.

“You know what this is, Chancellor?” She pressed a gloved finger onto a thick, aged tome. On the cover was a single eye with a sword through it, tendrils reaching out from its center. “Don’t answer, I know you do. This is a writ from the Divine, giving us the authority to act!” Cassandra advanced on the Chancellor, who began backing away from the angry warrior. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We _will_ close the breach, we _will_ find those responsible, and we _will_ restore order to this chaos, _with or without your approval_!”

The Chancellor’s eyes went wide for a moment, and Siles noted with some amusement that he looked downright scared by the Seeker. But after a second, he collected himself, giving the Seeker a disdainful look before exiting the room in an indignant huff. Leliana turned to Siles then, regarding her carefully.

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat,” She began. “Your mark remains the only way to close it.”

“We need you at our side if we are to have any hope of restoring order in the world,” Cassandra joined in.

Siles fought hard to keep her face impassive. This was the exact opposite of how she wanted events to transpire. She wished to leave Haven, not stay here and…join the cult? She realized she didn’t know exactly what she would be doing here.

“You wish to hire me?” She ventured a guess.

That was the wrong thing to say. Leliana’s eyes narrowed, and Cassandra snarled.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered to herself, turning away from the Witcher.

“I had suspicion you were a mercenary,” the redhead said, crossing her arms. “Alright then. Yes, we wish to _hire_ you. Because you are the only person who can possibly help us close the Breach.” She emphasized the last remark, glaring at the Witcher. “Without your mark, we have no hope of correcting this chaos. It is our only option, and consequently, so are you.”

Siles stared at the two women, the panic in her gut turning to flaring rage. “You wish me to fight for you, seal the rifts, and close the breach for you - _for free_? After you chained me up and kept me prisoner, and stripped me of my armor and weapons? After you had me face demons equipped with nothing but my leathers and a rusty old sword, which would have been a death sentence for anyone who wasn’t a highly trained fighter or a Witcher? Am I reading the situation correctly?”

Cassandra turned on the Witcher, glaring at Siles with thinly veiled contempt. “What were we supposed to think? You were the only survivor of the explosion, and you had the mark on your hand! You were armed to the teeth and no one recognized you. It was the most logical conclusion to make that you were the perpetrator!”

Leliana made a small step over to Cassandra, putting a hand gently on her arm. The Seeker closed her eyes and took a calming breath, regaining some of her composure.

“We are assuaged of your guilt now,” she said finally. “We need your help. Please.”

The Witcher looked at the two of them for a long moment. She could say no and leave this place, but then where would she be? She would still be lost in an unfamiliar country with no foreseeable way to get home. These people held some power, that was apparent, and they were probably her best chance at getting back to the Toussaint. Not to mention that she had the mark on her hand, and it did have the power to seal the rifts in the sky. Siles sighed heavily. It seemed she had no other options. The answer was clear.

“Room and board,” She countered, “with coin for reagents. And I need my equipment back immediately. But I will stay and help, and we’ll close the Breach.”

For the first time since meeting her, Siles saw a hint of a smile on the Seeker’s face. Leliana was no longer looking at her with open disdain. She wouldn’t call the look warm, exactly, but she was obviously amenable to Siles’ terms. The Witcher felt decidedly less in imminent danger from the woman. Cassandra reached out her hand to Siles and they clasped arms firmly, cementing their new pact.

“Welcome to the Inquisition, Siles,” Leliana declared, clasping her hands in front of her and moving around the giant oak table in the center of the room towards the door. She turned and looked over her shoulder back at Cassandra and Siles.“Let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Siles is now officially in the Inquisition! And I haven't forgotten that essentially no one knows who she is or what she is. That'll come into play very soon. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which revelations are made

The morning sun shone down upon Haven, rays reflecting off snow drifts and making the crystals twinkle and glimmer in its light. Siles moved purposefully through the small village, climbing up snow-covered steps towards the alchemist’s hut. After their meeting in the Chantry, Cassandra left to go survey their troops with Commander Cullen while Leliana slunk away towards a cluster of nearby tents, leaving the Witcher with a few vaguely ominous parting words. She would summon Siles soon to discuss her role in the Inquisition - and how exactly she came to be in the Temple at the Conclave to begin with. She also vowed that Siles would receive her armor and satchel by sundown, but until then had the day to herself. Not knowing what to do with her newfound spare time, Siles eventually decided to do something useful rather than drinking herself into a stupor – but it had been a close call. The Witcher nodded a greeting towards Solas as she passed his hut, who returned her acknowledgement with a quizzical eyebrow.

“If you are planning on asking Adan for potions, you may want to bring a token or a bribe of some kind. He is quite irritable,” Solas warned, crossing his arms and leaning against the nearby wall.

“I was actually hoping to make some potions myself, perhaps an oil or two,” Siles replied, coming to a halt a few steps away from the mage.

Solas chuckled. “You will most certainly need a bribe then, if you wish to have him share his table with you.” He pushed off the wall and moved closer to the Witcher. “How are you feeling? Is the mark still troubling you?”

Siles reflexively clenched her hand into a fist, then quickly released it.

“Thankfully not anymore,” she answered truthfully.

She hadn’t felt pain in her hand since she awoke that morning, and only a lingering soreness reminded her that her palm was still marked at all.

“It seems to have calmed down when the Breach stopped growing.” She regarded the elf, furrowing her eyebrows. “Varric said you looked after me while I was unconscious, when I first fell out of the portal. Was that true?”

“When you fell from the Fade, you mean? And yes, I did,” Solas confirmed.

“Well, then you must have seen my eyes before anyone else. And while you were healing me, you must have discovered that my physiology is a bit…different than most. And yet, you did nothing. As a matter of fact, you kept me alive.” Siles stepped closer to the elf, who began backing away just a fraction of an inch. It was a reflexive movement, but one that Siles noted with interest. Was he nervous? She pressed on. “Judging by the way the rest of the people here reacted, most would have killed me outright.”

She moved forward again, closing the space he had made between the two of them. In the close proximity, she could see the beads of sweat form at his temple, could hear the way his heart beat a sliver of a second faster. His face was a mask of impassivity, but his physical response betrayed him. He was either terrified or turned on, and frankly Siles didn’t want either. She rested a hand his shoulder, attempting to ease his apprehension.

“I just wanted to say thank you. Death awaits us all, but I would rather not greet it unconscious in a cell.” She removed her hand and stepped back, letting the cool mountain air breeze between them. “And thanks for the advice about Adan, but I think I’ll be able to handle him on my own, without the bribery.”

She turned and waved over her shoulder, leaving the mage standing in the snow, staring after her.

 

~~~~~

 

“Absolutely not.”

Siles rolled her eyes, irritated. Where was the harm in sharing his table and some herbs? Maybe a book or three on the local wildlife?

“You don’t need any help at all? Even with all of that?” She gestured towards a large stack of requisition forms piled on his desk. Adan bristled and hastily moved in front of it, hiding it from her view.“I’ve studied alchemy longer than you’ve been alive, you know,” the Witcher replied, crossing her arms."I could be useful to you."

“Longer than I’ve been…what? No, I don’t need nor want help, and you would only muck up the order I’ve managed to create in here,” Adan shot back, face flushing red with annoyance.

Siles sighed. She didn’t really want to resort to this, but he left her no choice.

“I think,” she started, fingers dancing to form the familiar Axii sign, “that you actually do need help, and would be happy to help me as well.”

She pushed the energy of the sign forward towards Adan, aiming towards a spot on his forehead. It floated through the air and landed gently on his skin, glowing brightly before sinking into the flesh and disappearing.

“I…I do need help. And I would like to help you as well,” He said, dazed. “Here, I have some books that may be useful to you.” He turned towards a shelf and began pulling out tomes for Siles to read over.

“Let’s start on your requisitions, and then we can move onto my work momentarily. Sound good to you, Adan?” Siles asked, grabbing a stack of order forms from his desk.

Adan nodded slowly, taking a mortar and pestle off the table and offering it to Siles.

“Yes, of course. I’m happy to help.”

 

~~~~~

 

Siles stared at the book laying open in front of her, then back at the daunting stack of tomes on the bench next to her. Things had immediately gotten off to a bad start, as quickly discovered she didn’t recognize a single herb or plant in the ingredient list for Adan’s potions. She was able to follow the recipe well enough though, and with Adan’s help she had gotten through the Inquisition’s requisitions. But when it came down to making her own potions, she was at a loss. She had sent Adan to the mage researcher (Minerva? Millicent? She couldn’t remember her name) to collect every book available on potions, alchemy, and the fauna of Ferelden. When he returned she dismissed him, preferring to do her research in solitude. She pored over the books, heart sinking as she her fears were confirmed. She knew nothing of the alchemical reagents of Ferelden and how they reacted together to make potions. Worse, she was unfamiliar with almost every beast and monster in the bestiary entries. She would have to go into the field and take samples from their corpses if she wanted to make effective sword oils against them, which would take hours of painstaking research. She would have to begin her alchemy studies almost completely anew, examining and memorizing the plant life and bestiaries of the country if she wished to even attempt to make her own Witcher potions.

She sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of her nose in irritation. It was like being a child at Kaer Treine all over again, Master Baltair standing over her as she tried to memorize which plants could be used as poisons, what kind of oil to apply to your sword when fighting Instectoids, and which herbs healed a Witcher of mortal wounds. She had been at this for hours now, and her progress had all but ground to a halt. The Witcher leaned back in her chair, shutting the book closed in front of her. She decided she needed a break, and since she had been productive for most of the day maybe now she could allow herself to get roaringly drunk.

Night had fallen on Haven as she left the alchemist’s hut and made the short trek to the nearby tavern. The Singing Maiden was a modest bar, almost no bigger than her own cabin, but inside it was warm and inviting. A bard was posted up in the corner, crooning songs about Empresses and Makers, while soldiers and townsfolk alike sat at wooden tables to share drinks and merriment. A fire crackled in the hearth, giving off a pleasant glow and warmth. Why hadn’t she come here to begin with?

No one had taken notice of her entrance, and Siles hoped to keep it that way, not wanting a repeat performance of her awkward walk to the Chantry that morning. She slid up to the bar, ordering the stiffest drink available from the flitting bartender and found a seat in a secluded corner of the tavern. She took a swig from her flagon and made a face, almost retching but instead choking down the offending beverage.

“Got the dwarven ale, did you? I’d know that face anywhere,” a voice came from beside her.

She glanced next to her and found the dwarf Varric had slid into the unoccupied seat adjacent to her. She was mildly annoyed at the intrusion but then decided that company wasn’t the worst thing to have right now. She looked down at the beverage in question.

“Dwarven ale? It’s quite potent…does the tavern keep a lot of it on hand?”

Varric raised an eyebrow but laughed. “I’m not sure, I don’t think many people order it. But if the Herald of Andraste wants more, more can be procured!”

Siles groaned, putting her head in her hands. “I just think it might be useful for some potions,” she lamented. “The Herald thing has gotten around, has it?”

Varric looked at the woman next to him – a bear of a woman, really – bigger than Hawke, possibly more frightening than Aveline and deadlier than Fenris around blood mages, wistfully gazing into her ale and decided right then to try to befriend the woman. As far as he could tell, she was completely alone here and, like him, dragged into this mess not entirely of her own volition. Plus, he was almost positive that hanging around this grizzled warrior would give him plenty of new material for his next book. His editor was on his ass for a follow-up to Tales of the Champion.

“I’m afraid so, Grizzly,” Varric replied. Siles groaned again. “But honestly, between you and me, without Cassandra and Leliana breathing down your neck, how are you holding up?”

Siles regarded the dwarf from between her hands, then in one swoop grabbed her flagon and downed its entire contents, slamming it onto the table when she was done.

“Well between you and me,” she started, “these past few days has been the most bewildering and insane days I’ve ever had. Which is saying something, if you knew the life I’ve lived.”

“I knew you would have a good story,” Varric all but pumped his fist in the air with triumph. “No one who looks like you and can massacre hordes of demons like you doesn’t have a good story hiding somewhere!”

“Buy me the next few rounds and I’ll talk,” Siles agreed.

Varric snapped his fingers and a barmaid appeared at his side, scurrying away to fetch their drinks after he gave their orders.

“Well the obvious question first,” Varric started once the drinks arrived. “What’s the story behind the eyes? Unless…you were born that way?”

Siles chugged the first tankard in front of her, sliding it away when she was done and grabbing at the second. She barked out a laugh.

“No, no I wasn’t born this way.” She looked pensive for a moment. “I think they were green. My eyes, I mean, before this. I don’t actually know, and I can’t remember very well what my parents’ eyes were. But I think they were green.” She took another deep pull from the tankard. “It’s a long shot, but you wouldn’t happen to know what a Witcher is, would you?”

“’Fraid not, Grizzly,” Varric replied. “First time I heard of it was from you.”

“Alright, what’s with Grizzly?” Siles asked. It was Varric’s turn to laugh.

“It’s a thing I do. I like nicknames. Yours was either Kitty or Grizzly, and since I’m rather attached to my spine being inside my body, I went with Grizzly.”

“But why Grizzly?”

“Because you’re built like a bear,” Varric replied easily. When Siles shot him a look, he put up his hands. “Not a bad thing! And, because of the necklace you wear. That’s a bear’s head, right?”

Siles touched her medallion. In the midst of her alchemy dilemma she had nearly forgotten about it. If the wildlife was so radically different here than in the Northern Realms, then maybe the magic was too? She shook her head. No, she was pretty sure that if she somehow ended up in the far reaches of the Continent, her medallion would still react to magic. It had to be something else. She realized suddenly she had yet to answer Varric’s question as silence filled the air around them, and he was eyeing her curiously.

“Yes, it’s a bear,” she said finally. “All Witchers from the School of the Bear have them, not that there’s many of us,” she added with a hint of remorse.

“So, the eyes…” Varric prompted. Everything she said lead to so many more questions, but he wanted to focus on one thing at a time.

“Are a result of being a Witcher,” Siles finished, taking another long gulp of ale. “I drank a potion, was out for a few days, and then when I woke up-“ She waggled her fingers for emphasis “-I was a Witcher. Cat eyes and all.”

Varric studied her for a long moment. “Are you trying to be cryptic, or is that another result of being a Witcher?”

Siles laughed, her first genuine one since she arrived in Haven. “Not intentionally, but I’m also not a moron.” She took another drink and sighed deeply. “I’m telling the truth, but not the whole truth, because perhaps there’s a reason no one here has heard of a Witcher. Perhaps once there were Witchers here, and maybe the good people of Ferelden decided there shouldn’t be.”

“While I doubt that, I get your point.” Varric noticed that Siles had finished her second mug and signaled to the barmaid for another round. “Alright, well what is a Witcher exactly, since we’re all so unfamiliar?”

“We’re monster slayers. It’s what we’re made to do,” Siles took another long pull from her mug. She felt pleasantly buzzed, warmth emanating from her belly. She was impressed – this dwarven ale must truly be strong, if she was feeling its effects after only four cups.

“What do you mean, ‘made’? Witchers are made?”

“Of course they are. Normal folk can’t just go up against a Griffin or a Wyvern and expect to live, let alone walk away from the encounter. If they could, there’d be no need for Witchers,” Siles replied. “So we’re made…or maybe a better term would be augmented.”

Varric nearly choked on the ale he was drinking. “Griffons? Did I hear you correctly? Did you say you slay Griffons?” Varric leaned forward, close to Siles. He looked _very_ interested now.

“Not every day, but yes. Human villages tend to encroach on their hunting grounds, and they’re not my favorite contracts to take but when they start taking out entire merchant caravans a Witcher has to step in.” Siles set down her mug and looked over at Varric, who was staring at her very intently. His ale sat forgotten on the table next to him. “What is it?”

“Where did you say you were from again?” He asked, cocking his head slightly to the side.

“I didn’t,” She responded uneasily, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“Well it’s interesting, Grizzly. You see, Griffons have been extinct here for hundreds of years. And I don’t just mean here in Ferelden. Griffons haven’t been seen in Thedas since the Exalted Age.” He looked entirely too much like the cat who got the canary. “So it’s surprising to hear that where you’re from not only do Griffons exist, but they’re so common that you have to slay them from time to time.”

The buzz she had felt disappeared in an instant. Griffins were decidedly _not_ extinct…At least not on any part of the Continent she knew of. She shook her head. This was _not good_. Best case scenario was that she was very far from Toussaint, but maybe still on the Continent, just in the most southern reaches. Worst-case scenario, she wasn’t on the Continent anymore, but across the sea or…She didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario anymore. She wasn’t sure if she even could right now. And then there was the dwarf sitting next to her, scrutinizing her with a mix of intense curiosity and suspicion. It hadn’t occurred to Siles before that her background and history should be kept secret, but the thought of all of Haven knowing she wasn’t just a stranger with cat eyes, but an _incredibly foreign and lost_ stranger with cat eyes made her blood run cold.

But on the other hand, Varric had been friendliest person to her since she met him up on the mountain, and in between the fighting had chatted good-naturedly with her. Even now, despite the tension between them from the surprise revelation, he didn’t seem particularly threatening. Sure, he was nosy and far too clever for his own good, but he didn’t seem malicious. And though she knew she could easily dispatch of him, she got the impression that he was important within the Inquisition. People would notice if he suddenly went missing. Siles straightened up to her full height, glowering down at the dwarf with her sternest look. It was the look she relied on so often when negotiating a higher pay from particularly stingy contractors. Varric barely hid a wince, cowering slightly away from her.

“It seems, Varric,” Siles said in a low voice, “that I am in a worse predicament than I originally thought. Do you have a map?”

“Uh, I’m sure I do, somewhere in my trunk,” Varric replied, looking unsure and somewhat caught off guard. “What kind of map are we talking about here?”

“All of the maps you have. Gather them and meet me in my cabin in twenty minutes. Don’t let anyone see you,” Siles ordered, then stood up swiftly, almost knocking the man over. She turned to him, softening her look. “I need your help, and I believe it’s important.”

Varric relaxed slightly. “Sure, Grizzly. See you in twenty.”

 

~~~~~

 

Siles opened the door of her cabin and was greeted with the sight of a large trunk set dead center in the middle of the floor, two swords resting upon it. She had nearly forgotten about Leliana’s promise to return her gear to her! She ran up to the swords, hefting them in her hands and checking the runes. There was no doubt these were hers. She breathed a sigh of relief as she set them gently down, then turned her attention to the chest. She threw open the lid of the trunk and nearly wept. Sitting at the top were her leathers and canvas, and beneath she could see all the pieces of her armor itself. She immediately stripped off the beige monstrosity she had been forced to wear and tossed it on the floor, shimmying into the leathers and linen shirt. She pulled out a floor-length canvas coat, slipping it on before getting to work securing on the chainmail. While fastening on her reinforced leather chest piece, she dimly thought about the futility of putting on her armor so late in the evening. But she had gone without it for so long, and right at this moment she needed to bask in something familiar to her. With the pauldrons and plate gauntlets in place, she secured her belts across her waist, clipping in the leather strap that held her sword sheathes on her back. Finally, she reached down into the trunk and pulled out a red plaid tartan and fastened it around her neck. It was a sentimental thing, really, and she wasn’t much for sentimentality. But even after all these years, she found she couldn’t part with the one relic of her past, the one belonging she had that had once belonged to her parents.

Fully armored, she let out a long breath, one she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. At last, she felt like herself again. Relief flooded through her as she examined the gear. They hadn’t disenchanted the armor or taken it apart, but most importantly they kept good on their word to return it to her. She hunched over the chest again, looking for her satchel when she heard footsteps approaching the door behind her. The strides were short and the footsteps light, and if she wasn’t a Witcher she doubted she would have been able to hear them. That would be Varric, then.

She reached the door before he did, ushering him in silently while looking out into the night to see if anyone had followed him. Sensing and seeing no one, she closed the door and lit the candles in the room with a quick Igni sign. Varric let out a low whistle upon seeing her.

“Now that’s a look, Grizzly,” he said, impressed. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”

Siles rolled her eyes but smiled. “Alright, alright. Now, do you have the maps?”

Varric indicated towards a bag slung over his shoulder, rolled up scrolls almost spilling out the top. “I brought all that I had. Now can you tell me what we’re looking for?”

Siles led them to a table and Varric dumped the contents of the bag out onto its surface. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I guess for anything that looks familiar to me.” She paused, giving another quick look out the window and listening intently for any noises near the cabin that could belong to prying eyes and ears. Hearing nothing, she continued, lowering her voice and moving in close to the dwarf.“Varric, I need to tell you something, and it cannot leave this room.”

“You have my word, good as it is,” Varric agreed.

Siles continued. “I’ve never heard of Ferelden before. I’ve never heard of the Frostback Mountains, or Haven, or even of Thedas. I have no idea where I am, or how to get back to where I came from.” She sat down heavily in a chair and reached for the nearest map, unraveling it on the table.

“That’s pretty serious,” Varric said, his prior excitement over the prospect of a secret having morphed now into something more somber. He slid into the chair next to her, reaching for his own map. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head falling out of the Fade and you just don’t remember?”

“Of course not!” Siles snapped, then relented. “Alright, so I don’t remember the encounter with the Divine woman, or how I got here exactly. But I remember everything else about my life before that, including where I was.”

“Well where are you from? You still haven’t told me,” Varric asked, pushing a map towards the Witcher. She scanned it, and upon seeing nothing familiar she moved it aside.

“Originally, I’m from a cluster of islands called Ard Skellig. But I’ve spent most of my life travelling around the Northern Kingdoms and the Nilfgaardian Empire.” She looked over at Varric with a sliver of hope. “Are any of those familiar to you?”

“Sorry, Grizzly. Never heard of them before in my life, and I’ve never fallen out of any Fade rifts I can blame the memory loss on.” He unfurled a map and passed it to the Witcher. “This is a map of the entirety of Thedas. If you were to recognize anything, it’d be on here.”

Siles grabbed the map and studied it carefully. After a long period of time, Siles rolled the map back up and set it gently on the table. There was…nothing. She didn’t recognize a single town, village, or city on the map. She looked up at the dwarf. “There’s nothing, Varric. I recognize nothing.”

The dwarf passed a hand over his face. “Well, shit.”

“Yeah.” Siles’ gaze slid from Varric’s face over to the window outside. She could see the moons shining brightly in the clear night sky, stars twinkling beside them. _Huh_ , she thought, _normally you don’t see two-_

Siles stood up suddenly, nearly knocking over the table in her haste to get to the window. Surely, she was seeing things. She stared out the small window, up at the night sky. Two moons shone down on her, one large and luminous and another smaller and faint, but still decidedly there. How was that possible?

“Varric. Have there always been two moons here? Or is that new, like the giant green hole in the sky?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, they’ve always been here. Satina and-“

“ _Varric_ ,” she interrupted. “Where I’m from, we have _one_ moon.” She turned to face him, watching as the realization dawned on him.

“Well, _shit_.”

 

~~~~~

 

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she awoke early the next morning face down in a pile of maps on the table. Varric was slumped over in the chair next to her, his hand curled around the edge of a book about the lands that lay beyond the borders of Thedas. After the revelation about the moons, he had run back to his tent to grab all the books he owned, hoping to prove Siles’ theory wrong – that she wasn’t just in a foreign country, but in an entirely foreign world.

“There’s a whole host of lands beyond Thedas that we don’t know anything about and maybe they can’t see the moons from there,” he had said upon his return, dumping the books on the table.

Siles agreed to read over the books but she wasn’t hopeful. The concept of multiple worlds existing wasn’t an entirely unheard-of phenomenon back home. After all, over a thousand years ago was the Conjuction of Spheres, an event that quite literally caused monsters and creatures from many different worlds to converge upon the Continent. This convergence was also the sole reason that the Witcher profession was ever created to begin with, since the inhabitants of the Continent were ill-equipped to face these new monsters. It was clear though that Varric had no idea that worlds existed beyond his own and was determined to deal with this revelation by denying it was true. She supposed that wasn’t the worst reaction to have – after all, he could have responded by curling up in a corner and rocking back and forth. She grimaced at the thought, as she recalled a few unpleasant experiences where she had been witness to people who had all but lost their mind when faced with world-altering news – usually news that she herself had delivered.

What did worry her, however, was that she had apparently traveled to a new world completely by accident. She cursed her faulty memory, wishing desperately she could remember what had happened between her last moments of consciousness and waking up in stocks in the Chantry’s dungeon. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind, trying to bring the memories to the surface. She was in the cave outside Toussaint, in the middle of a particularly harrowing fight. She was fighting a massive creature, but she couldn’t seem to recall what exactly it was she was facing. She tried to remember its face, its form, or even just a color, but came up empty. What she did remember was frantically using an Aard sign in an attempt to push the thing away from her and give her some much-needed distance. But the sign had missed and instead the magic in her sign must have activated a nearby dormant crystal. She didn’t remember seeing the crystal before the fighting or sensing it with her medallion, but she did remember the air next to her warping, a swirling gate appearing. Then her memories went fuzzy and try as she might she could only recall blurs of movement. But she must have jumped through the portal to escape the creature. Why would she have done that? Had the creature bested her? That was unusual, almost as unusual as her retreating from a fight. She tried once again to visualize the monster, trying to wrench them from the furthest reaches of her mind when next to her, Varric snored loudly, jerking her out of her meditation. She took a gathering breath, collecting herself before reaching over to the dwarf. She shook his shoulder gently, waking him.

“Varric, I appreciate your help. You have my gratitude. But you should get back to your tent and get some real rest,” she said. “We can work on this later.”

“Well you’re mighty calm for someone who thinks she was just dumped face first into a new world,” Varric replied groggily, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“There's no sense in panicking, especially when I can’t do anything about it right now,” Siles shrugged. “It's not like I could leave right away even if I did know how. There’s a giant rift I have to close, apparently.”

Varric chuckled, but it lacked humor. “Yeah, there is that. I almost forgot about it, what with all this different world business.” He stood, stretching. “Keep the maps for now. Maybe you’ll find a place you know eventually.”

“Sure,” Siles agreed. She was about to bid Varric farewell when she turned back on him, face serious. “And again, what you’ve found out here-“

“I’ll keep between you and me. But Nightingale is good at what she does, so don’t be surprised if she somehow already knows. Her ravens are everywhere.” He looked nervously around the cabin, as if expecting to find one sitting in the rafters. “I’ll see you later, Grizzly. Maybe you should think about getting some real rest too.”

She watched him leave, sliding back into the wooden chair. She contemplated crawling into the bed for half a second when a sharp knock interrupted her thoughts. She rose, striding forward and throwing open the door. One of Leliana’s men stood at the door, hand still raised from knocking. He looked slightly startled, then pounded a fist over his chest, bowing his head in salute.

“Your presence is required at the Chantry Herald, at your soonest convenience,” He reported.

“Of course it is. Let them know I’ll be there at once,” Siles replied, shaking her head.

So much for a rest. The scout saluted her once more then made his leave. As she was already in her armor, she returned inside only to grab her swords and her satchel. She almost left, but then saw the table and floor strewn with maps and books. She scooped them all up and dumped them in her now empty trunk, sliding the chest up against a far corner. She didn’t have a lock, but hopefully it was inconspicuous enough to be looked over. While she would like to believe the scouts wouldn’t snoop through her cabin while she was away, she knew better. Closing the door shut behind her, she set out into Haven’s morning light. Whatever it was that needed her attention, she decided, it couldn’t be worse than discovering she was stranded in the mountains in a world entirely different than her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know Thedas has 2 moons? Because I didn't, not until doing a deep dive on the DA wiki.


End file.
